


Nothing, Daddy

by honeyhurts



Series: Yes, Daddy [4]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Collars, Dom Derek, Dom Spencer Reid, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26558107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyhurts/pseuds/honeyhurts
Summary: Things take a toll for Spencer and (Y/N) when they're asked to go undercover.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader
Series: Yes, Daddy [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917643
Comments: 16
Kudos: 206
Collections: Daddy Spencer Reid





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [banana_pudding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/banana_pudding/gifts).



“I don’t want to talk about it,” (Y/N) huffed, rounding the corner. Emily was hot on her heels, effortlessly trailing her through the maze of Quantico. 

“You’re just burying it,” Emily hummed. (Y/N) almost scoffed. This really was the last thing she wanted to talk about right now.

“There’s nothing to bury.”

There it was again. That stupid fucking word.

_Nothing._

She had been in a sour mood since she’d heard it. Spencer had spat it out, completely disregarding what he and her had. 

The morning after the Fifty Shades debacle, Spencer had woken up before her, and only gave her a “wheels up in 30” before shuffling out of the hotel room.

And they’d barely talked since.

Sure, they had a few more “encounters” and late nate rendezvous, but they didn’t actually talk besides the polite small talk about work and the weather. 

It was maddening.

And as much as she tried to avoid it, (Y/N)’s mood had carried over to her work performance. Spencer had written it off as stress from their caseload, and she didn’t have the guts to correct him.

Emily had noticed almost immediately, and had pounced. It had been a week and half now, and she had spent every single day since badgering (Y/N) about it.

How ridiculous.

“Hey,” Emily stopped her, pulling at her arm until she stopped walking. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

(Y/N) sighed. She wanted to. God, she wanted to. She wanted to yell and cry and scream and laugh and break things. 

But why?

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she muttered under her breath.

Emily stroked her arms gently. “What do you mean?”

(Y/N)’s chest shook when she breathed in. “He called us nothing. And it hurt. And I don’t even know why it hurt. It just-” her voice cracked. “I don’t know.”

Prentiss pulled her into what she could only call a lover’s embrace. Soft. Warm. Needed. When she pulled away, she looked at (Y/N) closely.

“Listen, I know-”

“There you guys are! We’ve been trying to call you two,” Penelope rambled as she came around the corner, heels clicking pointedly on the tile. She took them in, their faces and postures, with a frown. “Everything alright? You guys look-”

“We’re great,” (Y/N) interrupted, not ready to face this moment again.

Penelope frowned, eyeing Emily with a weighted look. 

“We’ve got a case.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Four women, all strangled and left on their respective college campuses. Ligature marks around the wrist and bruising on the legs and buttocks. As well as this weird bruise on their necks and damage to the tracheas,” Penelope rattled off, going through photos on the screen quickly. “Local PD has canvassed the area and placed the campuses on curfew.”

“Good luck getting a bunch of college kids to abide by a curfew,” Emily joked. A round of nods circled the table and Hotch interjected.

“Local PD has managed to narrow down their search to a few different clubs they believe the unsub might be kidnapping the victims from. There are a few gaps in their case, however, so we are being called in to assist.”

“You know, the ligature marks look like wire, but the bruises on the neck are too thick. What would leave a mark like that?” JJ inquired, a puzzling look hanging over her features.

“That, my little band of geniuses, is why you are being called in. Police in Miami are stumped,” Garcia finished, setting down her tablet.

Reid’s eyes flew over the file in hand, reading over the entire case in a matter of minutes before speaking. “You know, besides being female, the victims have nothing common. At least, not physically.”

He was right (of course he was). All the victims were different races, majors, build, heights, hair colors, social circles, all of it. 

How odd.

Hotch stood, ending the meeting with a simple, “Wheels up in 30.”

\----------------------------------------------------

Hotch had been in the police chief’s office for about 45 minutes. Whatever it was they were discussing, it looked serious.

He had sent most of the team to the dump sites to look around for anything initial searches may have missed, but he had (Y/N) stay back to form a geographical profile.

That had taken about 20 minutes.

So now she was spying (trying to, at least) on what looked like a very important conversation, waiting for the rest of the team to return so they could discuss their findings. 

She saw Hotch stand and firmly shake the chief's hand, spinning on his heel to head for the door. She scrambled to make herself look busy, cheeks flushing at the idea of getting caught. She had just brought a pencil down on the map when Hotch’s voice rang out.

“(Y/N), may I have a word with you?”

Fuck. Big fuck. She got caught, she definitely got caught. 

A blush crept up her neck as she ducked into the private interrogation room Hotch was ushering her in to.

Was he firing her? Is that why he wanted privacy?

“Please sit down.”

Fuck, this was really it.

(Y/N) slid into one of the cold metal chairs, the steel digging into her spine which only put her further on edge. “Sir-”

“Please understand that this is a very uncomfortable conversation for me to have, and that I wouldn’t ask something like this of you if I didn’t believe it to be necessary.”

She swallowed. She wasn’t fired, but the alternative didn’t sound very promising either. “Okay…”

Hotch sighed, resting his head in his hands for a moment before sitting back again. “Local PD have made a connection between the victims, and it’s… peculiar.”

(Y/N) frowned. She wasn’t sure what this had to do with her, but the heavy crease in Hotch’s brow told her it wasn’t good.

He continued, obviously growing more and more uncomfortable as the discussion progressed. “Each of the girls had friends who claimed they had been… experimenting, if you will, with BDSM.”

Her breath caught as her mind raced to piece everything together. The ligature marks, the welts on the legs, the odd strangulation bruising…

The strangulation bruising…

“It’s collars,” she decided. It made sense. The weird shape of the marks and damage to the tracheas. It all added up.

Hotch nodded grimly. “It would appear so. All of the victims were reportedly going to clubs who specialize in such… festivities.”

(Y/N) sat in confusion. “Forgive me sir, but I’m not sure what that has to do with me?”

God, did he know? No. He couldn;t know.

Right?

“Well that’s where this conversation becomes very uncomfortable,” he continued, no longer meeting her eyes.

He knew. Oh my god, he knew.

“(Y/N) please understand that I wouldn’t propose this if I thought there was another option. And that I value your work as a member of my team very much, and I do not want you to think of this as demeaning.”

What?

“Sir?” she tried, completely missing where this was going.

Hotch sighed. “Agent (Y/L/N), the victims were all in college… very young. You are the youngest member of our team and the closest to them in age.” He cleared his throat. “You are a very conventionally attractive young woman, and the police chief and I feel confident that you would be a solid choice as bait in a sting operation.”

Oh.

_OH._

“I see,” she spoke quietly, feeling her whole body flush. “Alright, so… What exactly does that mean?”

Hotch was all business now, easing into his role as leader and guidance. “We have learned from interviews with the victim’s friends that each girl was single, but circulated through men on their nights out. We believe the unsub targets young women already engaged with other men.” He paused for a moment. “We would ask you to go into these clubs and pose as one of them, (Y/N).”

Her head was spinning. There was a knot that had settled in her throat and it seemed no amount of swallowing would clear it.

This was…

God.

“Alright,” she agreed before she had a chance to back out of it.

Hotch looked relieved. “Thank you, (Y/L/N). I don’t think you understand how important your role here is.”

(Y/N) tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. She went to stand, but Hotch stopped her with a raised hand.

“There is one other thing,” he continued. “In order to ensure your safety and prevent interference from other patrons, we have decided to also place undercover agents with you to pose as…” he paused. “Objects of your affection.”

Fuck.

She felt the lump grow, trying like hell to speak around it. “And who might that be?”

“Morgan…”

(Y/N) breathed a small sigh of relief. 

Morgan she could handle. 

“...And Reid.”

Double fuck.

\----------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) couldn’t look at her team. Hotch was delivering the plan, every grimy little detail wrenching at her gut. 

“(Y/N) will be posing as a potential victim. Morgan and Reid, you will be joining her.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Morgan asked, obviously confused.

Spencer was staring at her, a wild look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place.

He knew.

“You two will pretend to be patrons at the club interested in… partaking,” Hotch explained with a cough.

The team was silent. (Y/N) could feel their eyes fixated on her. It was suffocating.

Hotch broke the silence. “We’d like to start moving and do the first round of infiltration tonight. We’ll start at the club closest to the last dump site, and make our way around. If there are no other questions, you are dismissed. Morgan, Reid, and (Y/L/N)... Please stay.”

The team shuffled out, whispering amongst themselves. Emilyand JJ peeked back. Emily met (Y/N)’s eyes with an encouraging smile, but JJ was looking at Reid with what looked to be…

Sympathy?

Once alone, Morgan reached a hand out to lay it on her shoulder. 

“You okay with this?”

(Y/N) took a shuddering breath. “If it gets us this guy, I’m all for it.”

Spencer was absolutely still, maybe not even breathing. It was strange to see the loud and charismatic Dr. Reid at a loss for words. (Y/N) could practically see the cogs spinning in his head.

This was so fucking weird.

“Morgan and Reid, you guys will be posing as friends flirting with (Y/N). We need two of you there to be absolutely sure she is safe, but we don’t want to overwhelm our unsub and keep him from taking the bait,” Hotch spoke with complete sincerity and disdain. “That means one of you will… participate,” he struggled, “and the other will only watch.”

“Like a traditional dominant/submissive pairing,” Derek clarified.

Hotch nodded, but grimaced. There was something else.

(Y/N) swallowed. “Everything okay?”

He met her gaze, eyes swimming with apology. “Whoever decides to be the ‘dominant’ partner will have to... “

He trailed off with another grimace. The three agents waited with baited breath, though (Y/N) was pretty sure Spencer wasn’t breathing at all.

“Hotch?” Derek tried, already sounding nervous.

A sigh. “The dominant partner would have to be physical with (Y/N).”

Derek was already shaking his head. “Hotch I can’t do that. I just-” 

He looked towards (Y/N), but his eyes were staring past her.

At Spencer.

He swallowed, never pulling his eyes away. “I just can’t.”

“I understand,” Hotch consoled. “I know this is a very difficult request, but please understand I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t crucial.”

“I can do it,” Spencer blurted, seemingly surprised by his own admission.

Hotch and Morgan shared a look, speaking in that silent way (Y/N) had seen many of the team members do before. Hotch turned to her.

“Is that okay with you?”

The question felt heavy. Too heavy. 

Was this okay? Was any of this okay? There was a serial killer loose and (Y/N) was worrying about whether or not she could catch him.

It felt selfish and wrong and inconsiderate to be worrying about herself.

“I trust him.”

She couldn’t even say his name.

‘Nothing,’ a small voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Hotch nodded. “Let’s get you guys something to wear and go over procedures.”


	2. Chapter 2

(Y/N) was crowded in the back seat of the SUV, squished between Derek and Spencer. Both men were anxiously bouncing their knees, and she was sure the car was shaking from the force of it. Rossi and Hotch sat up front, quietly observing the entrance to the club.

Rossi spoke first, breaking the silence that had stretched on since they left the station. “We are going to head in, but we won’t be in the main room. If you need us, just give the signal. Morgan and Reid, you two go in first and go to the bar. (Y/N),” his tone softened, “Wait 15 minutes and then go in. We won’t have eyes on you so stay close to the guys.”

Their doors open, but Hotch turned back with one last smile. “Good luck. Be safe.”

And then there were three.

The awkward silence was tangible, hanging over them in a heavy sheet. Spencer’s eyes were fixated on the seat in front of him, and Morgan was playing his hands.

“So…” (Y/N) tried.

Derek laughed. “So…”

Spencer didn’t react, keeping his gaze firmly in place. 

Derek sobered. “If it makes you feel any better, I won’t look.”

(Y/N) genuinely laughed at that, the sound escaping her chest before she could stop it. It startled the eerie quiet and she felt the mood shift with it. “Derek, I’ve heard the filthy things you say to Pen. You can’t honestly be embarrassed by _this.”_

The burly man beside her giggled- _giggled_ -, a sound that only made her laugh harder. “Alright you got me there. But seriously,” he continued, laying a hand on her arm. “This won’t make things weird. Right?”

“Right,” she happily agreed.

Derek patted her arm, clad in her FBI jacket to preserve some of her modesty. The outfit was awful, barely an outfit really. A short skirt and a leather harness with a thin bra underneath. 

She looked amazing, of course. But this was not exactly what she considered “business friendly attire”.

This was the worst work trip ever.

Derek looked over her head then, his eyes softening. “Pretty Boy, I think we should head in.”

Spencer’s hand was already moving for the door handle, rushing like he couldn’t stand to be cooped up in the backseat anymore. Morgan followed, exiting the vehicle with one last encouraging smile before he shut the door. Spencer got out and hesitated. He turned to look at (Y/N) for the first time all night.

His voice was low, mindful of how close Derek was. “If you need to stop, I will stop. Always. For you. And no matter what, just remember that I-” 

He paused, stopping himself with a harsh swallow. His brows furrowed and he seemed to war with himself for a moment. 

“I’ll see you inside,” he decided, shutting the door firmly and storming towards the entrance with Morgan in tow.

(Y/N) was lost, so very lost. Her stomach was turning, but she couldn’t deny the effect Reid’s words had. She hated to admit that she felt a serene calm wash over her. 

‘Nothing.’

Shaking herself out of her own thoughts, she surveyed the club. Even the outside looked grimy and dingy. Couples occasionally stumbled outside, swallowing each other and groping their way to an alley not far from the doors. (Y/N) could only imagine what unspeakable things were happening there.

Minutes passed far too fast for her, and before she knew it, it was time to follow the guys inside. With a shuddering breath, she steadied herself.

‘Go,’ she pushed herself.

She shuffled herself out the car, heels clicking obnoxiously against the pavement when she walked.

Step, step, step.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The bouncer let her in, and she recognized him as one of the members of local PD.

‘We have men posted all around,’ Hotch had assured her earlier.

She breathed a sigh of relief knowing he was right.

Inside it was a disaster. The interior of the club was a high ceiling lined with neon lights and curtains, all loud music scantily clad bodies. The place reeked of sweat and sorrow. The swarm of bodies moved like ants, each occupied with their own self-importance. The sound of moaning mixed with the music filled her ears and it was all she could do to not retch. Her feet carried her forward, further into the crowd and she hated the way she could feel others pressed against her.

Someone shoved her and she faintly registered a “Sorry” before the lights blinded her from seeing who had stumbled into her.

What a mess.

A whip cracked from somewhere to her right and her head spun to meet the sight of two men crawling at the feet of a leather-clad woman gripping the source of the noise. She quickly averted her gaze, embarrassed to have seen something that felt so intimate. (Y/N) saw many couples donning collars and leashes and wondered how many of them could be potential targets.

Did they even know who could be hunting them?

Who could be hunting _her?_

The room felt like it was spinning and her head felt cloudy. The noise seemed to swell to nothing more than a buzz that stuck in her ears and refused to leave. Everything felt heightened and she feared she would collapse if she didn’t calm down.

‘It’s too much,’ she thought to herself in a panic.

There were eyes all over her and she swore she could feel their dirty caress as they roved over her. Men and women and others alike were watching her, arms brushing against hers in movements too forceful to be accidental. It was like walking through a claustrophobic nightmare.

“First time, huh?”

God, that voice. She could listen to that voice forever, and right now she wanted to cling to it and hide it away from the filth of this place forever. She turned expectantly to see the only man who could pull her from thoughts like these.

Her laugh sounded harsh and out of place, but she went on trying to sell the act. “Is it obvious?”

He smiled, reaching a hand forward. “Spencer.”

She took it, feeling silly at the notion that they would need introductions. “(Y/N).”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Hotch had given her strict instructions about not drinking, but she could use a glass of water to fight the rise in her temperature. From embarrassment or the touching, she didn’t know.

Spencer escorted her with a hand on the small of her back to the bar where Morgan sat, glass in hand, chatting with the bartender. Sensing their arrival, he spun on the barstool, eyeing (Y/N) from head to toe.

Even she could see the obvious effort it took him to look flirtatious in these circumstances.

“Well who do we have here?”

Spencer gently nudged her towards him, offering her up in a gesture that would’ve felt predatory had it been anyone else.

But it wasn’t. It was him.

“This is (Y/N),” he spoke in a sultry tone. It was like music.

Spencer perched himself on the open barstool next to Morgan maneuvering her to stand between his legs. Her hands caught his chest and she felt Derek place a tentative hand on her back.

“What a pretty name,” Morgan commented, and (Y/N) could hear the strain in his voice. She knew this was just as difficult for them as it was for her and that thought brought her a strange sense of comfort.

“If you like that, you should hear my phone number,” she joked, earning a genuine smile from Derek. She even heard Reid chuckle behind her.

They chatted at the bar for some time, laughing and flirting and it almost felt normal.

Until it came time to kick things up a notch.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere a little more private?” Morgan suggested, sincerity and regret flashing over his face for a moment before he schooled his features into something more alluring. 

Each of them took one of her hands and pulled her to one of the “private” coves lining the dancefloor. Although “private” seemed generous considering that there was nothing to stop other people from watching them besides a thin curtain that neither man bothered to close.

“We need him to see us,” Derek whispered, his breath washing down her neck and adding to the already building anxiety in her core. He swept across the small space and settled himself onto the couch near the wall. Spencer joined him, loosening his tie. Morgan nervously ran his hands over his jeans, and it took everything inside (Y/N) to keep from comforting him.

Spencer looked her over, eyes hungry. She couldn’t tell if he was impressed by her or if he had a knack for faking it, but either way, the look in his eyes made her shiver.

He lifted his hand, beckoning her forward with two fingers. She strolled over to him, purposefully swaying her hips. This felt too intimate to be doing in front of an audience, let alone _Morgan,_ but (Y/N) figured it was better than having a stranger watch them do this.

Right?

She stood just in front of them now and Spencer leaned forward to run a hand up and down her thigh appreciatively. He threw a look over his shoulder at Derek, who seemed glued to his spot. 

“What do you think?”

Derek looked completely unsure, but continued on with the act all the same. “Oh I think she’ll do.”

Spencer gave her a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Who takes the first turn?”

Morgan shifted, an uneasy smile dipping the corners of his mouth. “I think I’ll let you go first.”

Reid swallowed., his facade breaking for a moment before reconstructing itself. Like this, he looked _almost_ the way she knew him: dark, sexy, domineering. 

_Almost._

“On your knees, (Y/N).”

Spencer’s tone was forced, and she knew he was uncomfortable as well. Was it because of the situation? Was it because they had people watching? Was it because it was Derek?

She dropped to her knees gracefully, her skirt riding up her thighs dangerously close to her underwear line. She kept her hands on her thighs and waited for further instruction.

Spencer’s hand was petting her hair immediately. “Good girl. You like following orders?”

She nodded, and she didn’t completely fake the eagerness behind it. Spencer’s hand tightened in her hair as he yanked her face up.

“We want you to use your words. Okay?”

(Y/N) nodded again. “Yes, Sir.”

Morgan startled at the nickname, eyeing Spencer quickly before settling back to watch her again.

“You catch on quick, don’t you baby?” Spencer asked in a mocking tone. He gripped her arms and pulled her into a standing position before moving him to straddle him. “I think that deserves a reward. Don’t you, Derek?”

Derek was staring at them intensely, seemingly more relaxed after seeing the easiness with which (Y/N) complied.

Good.

“I think she does.”

Spencer smiled at him, and to anyone else, it may have looked sinister. But (Y/N) could see the reassurance lacing it, from one concerned friend to another. Morgan subtly nodded and settled back into the cushions. 

Spencer’s hands ran over her body before gripping her ass under her skirt. He yanked the offending clothes up, completely exposing her panties and barely concealed ass to everyone walking by. Her movements faltered at the thought.

Spencer was quick to try to bring her back. “What would you like?”

And she knew the answer. She knew exactly what would draw the unsub in. Hotch had stammered through a very lengthy explanation that left him flustered on the drive over.

She knew, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing to say out loud.

“Spank me.”

Derek laughed, playing the part of douchebag extraordinaire well. “Spanking? As a reward?”

(Y/N) knew it was part of the act, but it still made her cheeks flush in shame. “I like it.”

“Spanking it is,” Spencer cooed, palming at her backside aggressively. “Lay across my lap, facing Derek, okay pretty girl?”

That’s when her nerves started to fry. She knew of course that in a traditional dominant/submissive partnership, it would make sense to make the submissive watch the dominant have all of the fun. But having to _face_ Derek while Spencer went to town on her was nerve-wracking.

There was a calm hand on her waist, and Spencer moved closer so that his mouth hovered by her ear.

“Pretend it’s just you and me, okay baby?”

The whisper made her shiver, and her insides turned warm. The sentiment was sweet, and it meant even more to her knowing the affection wasn’t for show.

It was just for her.

So with the extra boost, (Y/N) wiggled herself to lay flat across Spencer’s lap, while her head rested on top of Derek’s thigh.

“We’re going to use the color system, baby. Red means stop, yellow means slow down or pause, and green means good. Okay?”

She knew that already. He knew she did. 

She nodded, and didn’t miss the strange look Derek gave her and Spencer.

“Alright. Count for me, darling.”

The first strike was easy, much softer than what he usually did and she knew he was going easy because of how nervous she was.

“One.”

The next one picked up speed, but didn’t hurt the way she liked.

“Two.”

Spencer’s other hand settled on her back before he brought the other down. This time, much harder and swifter than the previous two. A satisfying ‘crack’ sounded, and (Y/N) couldn’t help it when her hips rolled against his leg.

“Three.”

She hated how breathless she sounded. Derek hesitantly laid a hand against her head, pushing her hair away from her face. The touch startled her, completely disarming her for the next slap.

“Four,” she whined, praying that Morgan just thought she was good at pretending. She could feel the dampness in her panties and realized that was why Spencer had laid her with them facing away from Derek.

Brilliant Dr. Reid.

The next spank was even harder, the sting resonating through her core. She could feel the heat blooming, and knew there would be handprints all over her by the end of the night. 

“Five.”

A small crowd was beginning to form outside their little cubicle, the group watching their little display in rapt fascination. (Y/N) wondered briefly if their unsub was among them.

She couldn’t dwell on it long because Spencer was hitting her again, this one knocking the air from her lungs. 

“Six.”

“You’re taking it so well, baby. Isn’t she Derek?”

Spencer’s voice was the only thing keeping her grounded. Morgan muttered what sounded like an agreement. His eyes were focused on their crowd, and (Y/N) panicked. He looked too alert, too much like an agent, and not relaxed enough to be a casual attendee. 

Spencer must have sensed her distress because his fingers wound themselves in her hair and yanked her head up so that she was staring up at Derek, effectively drawing his attention away from the crowd and fully to her.

“Tell Derek how good it feels.”

Morgan looked partially mortified, and (Y/N) couldn’t blame him. She even shared his feelings, but she knew Reid was just trying to keep them on the same page.

“It feels so good, Sir.”

Morgan just pushed her hair back again, not speaking, but now turning his eyes to what Spencer was doing with his hands. He winced and (Y/N) braced herself for what she assumed was her next spank.

She was correct.

Even a few of the women who had gathered around their display whimpered at the loud and resounding ‘smack’. If it looked like it hurt, that was nothing compared to how it actually felt.

“Seven,” (Y/N) bit out between her teeth. Spencer took a second to massage over her ass, soothing the bite of his hand a bit before raising it again. This time he delivered two smacks in rapid succession. 

(Y/N) jolted, completely taken by surprise at the roughness. “Eight. Nine.”

She knew what came next. Spencer always made her last one the hardest, and she couldn’t imagine he’d give her more than ten considering the circumstances.

She was right.

His hand came down on her ass the hardest it ever had, and she was sure it would hurt to sit for the next few days.

“Ten,” she moaned.

His hands were immediately on her, pulling her to once again straddle him while he rubbed circles into her backside.

“You did so good for me,” he cooed.

‘Me’. Not ‘us’.

And she knew then that he wasn’t pretending anymore.

“So good for me. You did so good, my love.”

(Y/N) stilled. Spencer’s hands froze their ministrations, realizing what he had said.

He watched her dumbfounded, opening his mouth to speak when a waiter pushed his way in. He looked familiar, and (Y/N) recognized him as one of the undercover officers assigned to be here. He handed Derek a drink, and whispered something (Y/N) couldn’t quite hear Morgan nodded, facing her and Spencer with a smirk.

“Why don’t we take this back to my place?”

That was their cue to leave. They had worked it out in case the unsub didn’t show, but they didn’t want to blow their cover. Spencer nodded, eyes distant and dazed while he pushed (Y/N) off his lap and escorted her from the private room with a tight grip on her hand. Derek followed closely behind them.

Once they were outside, Reid dropped her hand like it was burning hot and beelined for the car. They all squished into the back seat and kept quiet for the drive to the hotel.

It was the absolute longest car ride of (Y/N)’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for the "oh no we have to be horny on a mission together" cliche, sue me.
> 
> ALSO: this is dedicated to someone who constantly brightens my day with their positivity and humor! @banana, you rock my socks.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days went the same. Have breakfast as a team, work on the case, and prepare for the inevitable night of spanking and public humiliation.

Spencer hadn’t spoken to (Y/N) outside of their sex club banter after that first night. Even his roleplay felt stunted and off.

It could be the fact that they had yet to catch whatever sick fuck was lurking in the shadows, waiting for his next victim. But (Y/N) knew better. She knew it was more than simply being bothered by the case.

She just didn’t know how to approach it.

After the third night undercover, Derek thankfully seemed to be getting into the groove of things. He no longer winced when Spencer spanked (Y/N) so that felt like a win.

But each night felt more and more tiring as their plan seemed to fail. 

By the fifth night, all hope seemed to be lost. (Y/N) had sustained some impressive bruising that came from being hit night after night, but it did more to sell the fantasy of “good girl at the height of her experimentation”.

Night six was a different story.

The tensions amongst the team were high. Being evaded by someone so ridiculously scummy was taking its toll, and it seemed everyone was more on edge than ever.

So when (Y/N) strolled into the sixth grimy club of the week, it was no surprise that Spencer looked downright _pissed_ sitting at the bar. 

Derek, to his credit, just looked bored. (Y/N) had made her way over, “flirted” her way into some “drinks”, and chatted until Derek saw a decent spot in the conversation to introduce going somewhere quieter. And just as she had for the past five days, she agreed. 

The “private rooms” at this particular club were downstairs on the lower levels. (Y/N) followed them down the winding staircase to a floor lined with what looked almost like dungeons. They found an empty one and went to work.

They were halfway through the spanking routine when things changed. Spencer’s pace and force had been harsh, but it wasn't anything (Y/N) couldn’t handle.

“Seven,” she gasped out, more to the crowd of onlookers that had gathered than to Derek or Spencer.

That’s when a male voice from the front broke out.

“She can take it harder.”

(Y/N)’s head had snapped towards the group, and she felt the boys do the same. An average built male stood at the front of the crowd, nondescript in just about every way possible.

Exactly how they had profiled him.

“You think so?” Spencer had cooed.

The man stepped forward enough for (Y/N) to make out more of his features. Blonde, average height, dominant body language. When he spoke, it was in a tone that left no room for disagreement. “I know so.”

Derek’s hand moved to cradle her head in a move that felt protective. Spencer’s hands tightened on her. This was him. This was definitely their guy.

The unsub took a long pull from his drink, swallowing before making eye contact with her. “Why don’t you let me take care of you, sweetheart?”

They had done it. They had lured him in.

(Y/N) nodded and pulled herself off of Spencer’s lap, stalking towards Unsub at a brutally slow pace. His smile was too wide, with too many teeth to be friendly.

“What’s your name?”

“(Y/N),” she replied, and she hated the way her voice cracked on the word. The unsub didn’t seem to take notice, only smiling wider (if that was even possible).

“Mike,” he introduced himself, running a hand over her back and pulling her a fraction closer. He turned his attention to the two agents still on the couch, both who looked ready to pounce. “If it’s all the same to you, gentlemen, I think (Y/N) are going to go have a few drinks.”

When Spencer spoke, it was through a locked jaw and gritted teeth. “Have at it.”

Mike smiled, and led (Y/N) down the hall to another room on the opposite side of the corridor. This one seemed colder somehow, and she blamed the lack of trusted friends and good company. Mike gestured for her to sit, and the small talk began.

“What brings you here?”

“I thought it might be interesting.”

“Where you from?”

“Right here.”

“You go to school?”

“Yes, I do.”

And so on, and so on. They talked about everything and nothing, Mike becoming more and more insistent that she have a drink. “My treat,” he had said when she adamantly turned him down again.

“I’m underage,” she pressed, growing nervous.

Mike only smiled. “Nobody needs to know.”

She had once again assured him that she was fine, and the topic was dropped. (Y/N) began to lose hope that they had _actually_ caught their guy and that she wasn’t wrapped up in the most boring conversation of her life when Mike brought up an interesting question.

“Have you ever worn a collar?”

And that was not a boring topic. (Y/N) stilled and felt the ice in her veins.

“A few times,” she tried carefully.

He gave her a look that made her want to run. “I’d like you to wear one for me tonight.”

If she seemed too eager in her agreement, he didn’t seem to notice. This was what they needed to nail this guy. Once she had the collar, they could compare it to the strangulation marks on previous victims and sent _Mike_ away for a very long time.

“I’d like that,” she spoke through a genuine smile, elated at the thought of all of this being over. She swept her hair up in her hands, turning to allow him to put it on her when he reached out to stop her.

“Not here,” he said. “It’s too loud. Too much going on. I want to be able to focus on just you. Why don’t we step outside for a little privacy?”

It was so obviously a ruse to get her alone that it was laughable. And she knew she’d have to a complete idiot to fall for it. But the need to be done with this, to take this creep down, was clawing at her stomach, and she let that sway her to what could be the worst decision she’s ever made.

“Okay.”

And then they were standing and Mike was ushering her through the crowd with a hand on her back. They wound their way through a few “employee only” doors before they wound up outside in a dark alleyway.

No one else in sight.

“Perfect,” Mike said with a sigh, and (Y/N)’s stomach twisted into a knot. “Turn around for me again, sweetheart.”

She did as she was told, lifting her hair to give him better access and she felt the cool leather slip over her throat gently. The cold bite of the metal buckle made her hiss and she heard him laugh behind her.

“You’ll get used to it.”

And then he was pulling. 

Tight.

(Y/N) barely had time to register what was happening and reached for the brick alley wall in front of her, desperate to steady herself against him. Her hands flew to her neck and she clawed at the collar in a useless attempt at relieving herself. Her elbow surged back, and she heard and pop and a groan before the pressure at her throat ceased. Wasting no time, she spun on her heel and shoved him into the nearest wall.

She could hear the sound of the door swinging open followed by an “FBI! Put your hands where I can see them.”

Derek was advancing, flanked by two other officers. (Y/N) felt strong warm hands wrap around her hips and yank her away from Mike. 

Spencer was crowding her against the brick, shielding her. His eyes were on fire, and she opened her mouth to rejoice with him about catching their unsub when he stopped her.

“What the fuck was that?”

And that hadn’t been what she expected at all.

“I’m sorry?” she spoke through her haze of confusion.

Spencer was practically growling when he spoke. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? We didn’t have eyes on you out here. Thank god one of our officers happened to see you follow him out or else we may not have found you in time! What were you thinking?’

(Y/N) felt properly scolded and shrunk in on herself. “I wanted to catch him.”

Spencer’s hands were clenched into fists by her head. “I don’t care! This was stupid and reckless and you could have been killed! You being choked was not part of the plan!”

“We needed evidence that it was him!” she cried in defense, feeling tears pool in her eyes pathetically.

“I don't care!” Spencer roared, and she could see Derek ushering the unsub and other agents back inside, leaving just the two of them outside. “I would have found evidence! I would have done something! There was absolutely no reason for you to do that! I could have lost you!”

‘I’. Not ‘we’.

“Spence, I’m sorry. I didn’t think-”

“Yeah! You _didn’t_ think! That’s the problem!” He was yelling now, volume rising with each word he spoke. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she whispered pathetically.

Silence hung between them for a heavy minute, (Y/N) staring down at her feet, and Spencer staring down at her.

Finally, he sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Let’s go. I’m driving you back to the hotel.”

“Shouldn’t I go with the team to write out a statement?” she asked, pointing over her shoulder vaguely.

“No,” he snapped. “You aren’t doing that tonight. You’re going to go back and sleep the night off.”

Her brow furrowed. “Spencer-”

“Let’s go.”

And he spun on his heel, giving her no time to protest. She followed quietly and allowed him to drive her back in complete silence. Not even the radio broke up the tension.

When they arrived back, (Y/N) tried once again. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I should have-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he snapped. His throat bobbed, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. “We fly back home tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She muttered a quick “see you”, and undid her seatbelt. She stalked to her room gloomily and once the door shut behind her, she cried.

She didn’t know why, but the tears came before she could stop them.

‘What am I crying about?’ she thought with a grimace. ‘There’s nothing to cry about.’

Nothing.

_Nothing_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! If you have any questions/requests/needs, let me know!  
> Be safe, wear a mask, and take care of yourself! xx

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello! I am SO sorry this is coming so late, but I really wanted to lay out some more stuff for this series.  
> Anyway: If ay of you ever need to chat or just a ear to talk at, let me know! I've got all kinds of social media that I'd love to connect on!  
> Behave yourselves and remember: You are a little light in somebody's world (especially mine), and you're so valuable.  
> All my love xx


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